It's raining in Bern
by BrownFeather
Summary: For Ludwig, it is another business trip and a friend he never had. For Vash, it's another unpleasant memory. They both remember, though. [Deal between Switzerland and Germany during WW2]


**It's raining in Bern **

* * *

Germany had forgotten how beautiful Switzerland was.

The country's appearance, that is.

When the train left Basel (where he had left his car) and suddenly, about fifteen metres beneath him, he saw rocks and deep turquoise water, he remembered it.

The mountains were a blue silhouette on the horizon, and the people on the cosy train around him chit-chatted in their rolling, cute, unintelligible Swiss German dialect, and all of the sudden, although he knew that their meeting would be about his tax revenues, a jejune and unedifying topic they both assumed was nothing you could debate about much, because it was obvious what to do in this case – and, surprisingly enough, their conclusions about what to do were exactly opposite – Ludwig was looking forward to seeing these meadow green, rarely blinking eyes again.

* * *

It was raining in Bern.

Germany stood in front of a nicely kept building facade, on the way to Vash – he had decided to go the rest of the way to the hotel they wanted to meet in by foot, and didn't regret it – and looked up into the greying sky.

The first raindrops fell, met his face, and wet the pavement. The warm summer air had begun to chill down.

They fell like he should remember something. He didn't know why, but rain made him try to remember why he felt so longing all of the sudden.

It was always like this when rain started to come.

He called Vash, and noticed that it had been a long time since he had last heard his Voice. Germany almost boggled because it sounded so unfamiliar.

"Vash Zwingli speaking."

"Hello, Switzerland. It's me, Germany."

„Hello. Where are you?"

„…Still in Muri, I guess. I was actually calling because I wanted to buy a new watch… do you know where I should go? In Bern, when I want to be punctual?"

A short span of silence was the answer. "I'll have to go there anyway" Vash answered. "I'll pick you up. Can you go to the next tram station you see? I'll be there in ten minutes, and we'll go to the Hotel Bern after this."

Ludwig had proposed to meet there, and assured that he was willing to pay their meal. Whether Vash would like to choose the food?

* * *

Ludwig let Vash drive. For some reason, the Swiss had decided to drive them in his Mercedes; he was one of the few people Ludwig could sit next to and feel at ease while they drove one (other than, for instance, Gilbert, America, or Northern Italy. Southern Italy, neither). Also, it was the more reasonable decision, since Vash was more used to these perfectly plane, but _many_ and bendy streets.

"Will you stay for today or some time longer?" Vash asked.

"I hoped to stay for a few days" Germany answered. „So, if after our meeting this noon there are still queries, I'll be here in Bern."

Vash nodded.

* * *

„This legislation of yours enables so many – excuse me, Vash – financial crimes to be hidden!"

Vash glared, hearing this harsh wording. "I do understand your attitude, but you'll have to understand mine, as well, Germany: You were angry about the data revealed by this Mr. Snowden, right? You were spied on, and your intelligence had agreed to this, in exchange for information. I am sure you'll understand when I say that if my government would deal banking information of customers that trusted me it would be as unpleasant."

Ludwig slightly frowned. "This was about contacts and exchange of citiziens, and other very personal information."

"I understood that in your legislation, personal possession and funds are very personal – and volatile - information, as well."

Ludwig resisted the urge to massage his temples. "It is. Yet the police and the BND can get hold of any information if it does help to expose a crime. And tax fraud is a crime that costs the EU roughlyone thousand billions a year. Also, people already start to move their money from your banks to the orient! Thus, we all would like to get access to the account informationof all our citations. Not of yours, not at all. Also, that the citizens of other countries' states are your customers doesn't change that it's not you who is responsible for their information!"

Vash was used to, no matter what was discussed, find a common viewpoint and a compromise satisfying as many people as possible. He would have to get used to the fact that Ludwig's way of debating was a lot more – blunt. And harder. He decided not to start a debate about responsibility (what was Ludwig's speciality) nor about the principles of bank discretion any further (what would be _his_ strong point) and pondered. "As far as I heard" he retortet and inwardly flinched at his sharp tone. "your government promised to seize only a fractional amount of the money apparently hidden in accounts of my banks. Thus it will be worthwhile for neither you nor me to anger me and my customers."

Ludwig sighed, having suddenly lost his train of thought. „You're right, and this is an affair we – being my officials and me - will have to discuss further. Most of my people want the rich to pay their share, as well, easily worded" he said „Especially in times of economical crisis. That's why we politely ask you to help find the defrauding people in question. That's all."

Vash slowly put his fork on the plate. "Yesterday" he said "A German employee at one of my banks passed the data of _many_ German customers to your government."

Ludwig coughed, and managed to politely hide it behind his napkin. "He was not a spy" he clarified, a little indignant "but a single man who decided to act as a whistleblower. We wouldn't send spies."

Vashs eyes narrowed (well, they didn't really – but a corner of his eyes twitched, and the man was just able to give you an angry look without really moving the muscles of his face). "So, in short, if I keep this protection of privacy I am proud of and you cherish and that I have kept for hundreds of years up, your people will turn into whistleblowers?"

"This was a single man" Ludwig protested. "And, in fact, I am proud of him" He did only remotely realise the dagger-like quality of Vash's look "because – look, Switzerland, as I already tried to explain: for many people in countries all over Europe, it is an annoyance to deal with rising taxes and see influential people get away with tax fraud so easily."

"I do understand you" Vash emphasised "Yet I'd like you to understand me, too, Germany."

Said nodded. "I do." Ludwig tried to think of another way NOT to let their talking end without any result AGAIN, and said: "I heard that there is a debate between the US government and your bank management, as well?"

Vash stared at Germany. "It is", he eventually grumbled.

"Did you discuss the same topic we are discussing right now?"

"Nei." Vash leaned back and crossed his arms. This and his Swiss German answer ("No") showed Ludwig that the Swiss didn't like the way their conversation was going.

"I want to be honest. It would surely be helpful if the EU and America would both sum up their reasons why they would like you to ease your bank secrecy once..."

"You think so" Vash forced out.

"I assumed America wants solely the data about all American investors of your banks, nothing else?"

"Mo. It's rather that he wants my banks to pay a **fine** for protecting their account. This crazy whippersnapper simply needs money."

Ludwig tried to apprehend both Vash's angry reply and the sound at the beginning. "Mo?" he asked.

"Ah – yes" Vash explained.

"'Mo' means 'yes'?"

"Yes."

"The 'Yes it is' yes?"

"Yes."

Ludwig nodded. "I see. Well, about-"

Vash looked tense, and suddenly he avoided Ludwig's eyes, and instead glared at his plate. "I know that my accent may sound funny-" he began, then stopped, snapped his mouth shut and glared at Germany.

Ludwig blinked. "Oh – No" He said. "No. You don't sound bad. I mean I think it's – you'd say endearing, I guess."

Vash scowled. "Excuse me?"

"Really, I'm not – mocking you. It does sound – nice. 'Mo'. And so on." He - felt - so - awkward.

Vash seemed puzzled. "Alright" he finally said.

Somehow, the topic was ended after that. They discussed Vash's and the other Swiss cantons poceedings with Alfred (what was more like Ludwig listening to Vash rambling), agreed that they would both think about their talk and talk with their government officials, and enjoy their meal for now.

* * *

Ludwig did use the rest of the day for checking his e-mails, prepare his schedule for the day he was back home, and a short walk into Switzerland's comparatively small, but snuggish capital, and a quick dinner. After that, Vash called and invited him for a glass of Swiss white wine.

Ludwig was surprised, assumed that Vash was so generous all of a sudden because he felt lonely (something Ludwig understood), and agreed to come. "Where do you want to meet?" he asked.

"At my house. Use the tram to Zytglogge. You can take the bus afterwards. I'll give you my new address. Do you have a pen?"`

This meant 0 invested franken for Vash, and 3.50 invested invested franken for Ludwig, after all.

* * *

For some reason, Vash was convinced to be looked down on, as the small and isolated foreigner south. What, in fact, he didn't (he made the mistake to assume Vash was just like him just too often), so as the day progressed Ludwig politely pointed out that he enjoyed Vash's modern museums and nicely kept, hundreds of years old buildings - that were never destroyed by anything else than fire and time -, and these clean streets, and the architecture, what earned him a surprised blink every time he did. Ludwig didn't mention the mountains, and that he liked to listen to Vash speak High German and still roll his r, drawl his a and roll his ch deep in his throat. But this evening, when they were enjoying their wine outside Vash's house in peaceful silence, and it was too late and the air too soft and Ludwig all too tired to think throughoutly before speaking, he told him that he thought it was surely something else not to have wars and uprisings and dirty secrets as the downsides of one's history, but minor political murders and quarrels between rich families; Ludwig did vaguely know about the rough times before all this, yet... And that was the moment Vash looked at Ludwig and their eyes met and they both remembered.

* * *

Day unknown, september 1936

* * *

"I will be neutral, as always." Vash stood up and Emma, his sister, silently mirrored his movement. He looked at everyone assembled in the room, the last time most probably, before they'd stop meeting, and war would shake them once again. "I will not tolerate anyone trespass my ground." He pointedly looked at Northern Italy. "And I **will** make preparations to ensure this. You may do what you want; leave me out of it. Also, I will not trade any arms with anyone, nor support anyone in any way, other than let the Red Cross do their work." It was the longest speech Vash had delivered in front of them in a long time, and after these words, he simply turned on his heels and left, followed by Liechtenstein.

* * *

Day unknown, month unknown, most probably in 1939

* * *

"So, the deal is '_You look after our money, we leave you alone'_" Ludwig concluded, with a slightly untypical, lop-sided smirk.

Vash's eyes were still glued to the papers on the desk. He nodded. "I won't ask where this gold comes from" he said.

Ludwig slowly bit his lip. Vash didn't see it. There was a silent moment when they both stood at each side of the desk, thinking. Then, Ludwig remembered his schedule. "See you, I guess. Goodbye." He was almost out of the door when he remembered something. "Oh, yes. There might be people escaping from my territory. Maybe even accompanied by Germans, or Austrians, or Swiss. Don't let them pass."

Vash stared.

Only now Germany turned around in order to see Switzerland's reaction, and Vash could see his face. It was motionless, and detached.

"I won't ask" Vash said calmly. "Just: How much do you know?"

Ludwig stopped short. Then he said slowly: "What I know – is only of my concern, I guess."

"Ludwig!" Vash called out after him, all of the sudden with his human name. It made Germany stop in his tracks and spin around. "This will _not_ prevent me from sending spies to your place and don't trust any of you buggers, especially not you!" and the first and the last time of this and a long period coming, Germany grinned a small, juvenile grin. "You'd better not!" he called, leaving open which one of Vash's statements he was commenting, and left.

Only six years later, Germany ran a road quite some of aforementioned people had taken, too.

* * *

Germany _had_ known that Arthur would seek revenge, and he had pointed it out to his military leaders. They hadn't cared much (the Aryan people would prove whether it was worth survival or not), and Germany had simply not expected the answer on the bomb raids on England to come out so harsh.

He ran, remotely noticing a soaring, acid pain in his throat as frying and suffocating people, and the tightness in his lungs as panic. The only thing he desperatedly had on his mind was to get away from Arthur.

He'd find him. They'd find him. Maybe. Eventually.

He knew it already.

Yet, this word was forbidden to be thought. Over. Useless. Eventually. _Verboten._

_Zu feige, um zu kämpfen?_

And only when he saw the lights far away, Germany noticed where he was.

The same house at the same border of the same person.

He slowed down, still gasping, and looked back.

He'd go back. He couldn't leave his country, wouldn't. But.. the border. The end. Peace. Only once. Only one break...

Before really realizing what he did, Ludwig stood on the border, stepped over it, stood in the small garden around the house. It was sheltered by tall trees, and, somehow, it was so quiet here.

Vash already stood in the door frame, his dark figure wearing a night gown and carrying a rifle in his right hand. The light from inside the house shone outside, made Vash and his features lie in dark shadows. He was waiting, watching him.

"Please..." Germany stumbled, made a step towards Vash, although the man made a defensive move with his gun, and supporting himself against the garden lantern softly enlightening the front garden, managed to slow his breathing down, and only now, he felt the soft raindrops on his cheeks. "Vash, can you – can you hide me?"

Vash stared at him. Ludwig could see it, although the other's face was hardly visible. He looked back. Darkness, and dim fire at the horizon; Arthur was still out there, somewhere, and Ludwig knew that he acted as instinctive as an animal, and yet he couldn't do anything different than be afraid. "Just this night?" I'll be normal again tomorrow. I'll stand and fight on tomorrow, like we all do. I'll carry on tomorrow. Just one night...

And then Vash stepped aside. Like he had for French Huguenots so many years before, like he had for Jews and poles for the first years of this war and escaping soldiers from both sides, he did now; not in order to let Ludwig in, though, but to let some more of the light inside his house shine outside and look at Ludwig, then at the area behind the border. Then he closed the door.

Germany stood there, numbed.

The lights switched off. The lamp in the garden first, then the light inside the house.

After seconds of nothing than stunned silence, the door silently opened, only a slim gap, and Ludwig could hear Vash's murmur. "Stay here. For tonight." The door shut again, a little too loud to have been unintentional. Ludwig was left in the garden, with the stars above, the cooling night air, the chirping of crickets, fading rain, and silence.

That was when realization started to wash over him.

No one would find him. For tonight. And it would be hard, very hard, for Arthur and Alfred to figure out whether they were over Germany's ground, or still over Switzerland, and maybe not take the risk and drop the bombs here. For this night.

* * *

The silence between them extended after that.

In fact, they did spend the rest of their time in silence, until Vash started small talk about the problems of his investment managers, and Ludwig's elections this year, and their different dairy industries.

When it was almost eleven pm, Ludwig said good night and left.

For Vash, this evening the last of a time that marked a black spot in his history, a memory he was chewing on until today, and was another reminder that whenever someone decided not to respect his neutrality, he was too small and too alone to kick their butt. For Ludwig, it was a night when someone who didn't have a reason to protect him had done so.

Thus, when Vash dropped him at the train station, Ludwig got out of the car and Switzerland politely accompanied him to the platform, they both walked silently and kept their distance. They were both people who felt more comfortable when they weren't unnecessary close, anyway.

Vash said goodbye.

There were so many nations Germany wouldn't have minded to make a mistake with. Because he had had fights and wars and times of prosperous exchange with almost all of them. With some, he'd know how to handle things because it would have been fun, but neither serious nor affecting their feelings (America, Denmark) and because he knew they wouldn't give a damn about him, and he wouldn't about them (Russia, Turkey). Admittedly, with some, it would be awkward (Austria, or, oh God, Poland) and some were so enjoyable to deal with that it would be a shame to create a disagreeable situation with them (Hungary, Japan).

Not Vash, though. He was the only one of them to keep out of trouble because he had learned the lesson not to do this long ago, and he _had_ kept out of much, and Ludwig did admire him for this.

So, not Vash. For some reason, he was untouchable area.

So Germany nodded goodbye, grabbed his bag and entered the train back home.

Outside, it had started to rain once more.

* * *

**A/N**:

This deal did exist. The gold was – partially, at least – the melted dental filling gold of dead concentration camp inmates.

(Who, for the sake of general knowledge, did consist of people of all nationalities around western, middle and eastern Europe this time, including Jews, Poles, Germans, Austrians, Dutch and Belgians, and having committed the crime of not fitting into the ideology of the NS government. Captured Soldiers – Poles, Russians, French, few Brits, Dutch, Belgians and Americans – were either in the countryside or factories or extra camps. Usually. I'm noting this because I've read quite some rubbish about this so far.). It is known that this deal was made; any hints about who kept the gold, where it was and especially where it is are gone; apparently, also no one knows who destroyed documents etc. that would reveal this. The topic was the source of various speculations and quite some fiction. (*personal opinion alert on* According to my limited general knowledge, the most probable candidates would be SS people, Swiss bankers or, maybe maybe, Allied forces. This is not the most spectacular thing here, anyway, imho, but that someone has the nerve to keep gold that was broken out of dead people's teeth. *alert off*) If you verify that you had a relative that was a victim of a concentration camp, died there and did have a gold fill in his teeth, the German state will pay you a compensation, though.

The thing about switching the lights off (in Swiss cities, in order to confuse British and American bomber pilots whether they were over Switzerland or Southern Germany) is also real; I couldn't find out whether it was because government officials in Switzerland were still afraid they might be attacked by Germany otherwise or because of compassion, or some other reason.

Also, I saw interviews with several people working for the Swiss Red Cross this time; a woman mentioned a young German soldier who asked her about some things he heard about camps and that the war wouldn't lead to a victory of Germany, and that he just couldn't believe it. I based the question about how much Ludwig does know (inter alia) on these interviews.

During WW II, Switzerland did send soldiers to the borders, and installed hidden guns on the border to Northern Italy (Nehe XD You remember the episode when Italy runs through Switzerland's garden?).

The things Vash and Ludwig discuss were recent topics on Swiss and German TV and radio.

Zytglogge is a central tram station in Bern. Franken (or Francs or Franco) is the Swiss currency.

Translations:

verboten: forbidden

Zu feige, um zu kämpfen?: (Are you) Too cowardly to fight?

"I was too much of a coward to fight" was a text on a plate brought on by the SS a Swiss Red Cross helper saw next to hanged German soldiers who wanted to surrender and commit a city to the Russian army. Also, the SS executed soldiers who tried to commit suicide (which were several a day in 1945).


End file.
